


The Little Bird Princess

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar won, Alternate Universe - the Seven Kingdoms are all independent nations, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Cousin Incest, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jon is a legit targaryen but still called Jon, Jonsa Disney/Fairytale collection, Kidnapping, Swan Princess AU, magic spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: When Rhaegar defeated Robert Baratheon on the Trident, he only spared Ned out of love for Lyanna. And on the condition that Stark's eldest daughter would one day wed his son and quell the fighting between the North and the Crownlands for good.The Swan Princess rewrite.Response to a Disney/Fairytale Jonsa prompt.





	1. For As Long As I Remember We've Been Told We'd Someday Wed

Sansa was five years old when she found out that Prince Jon Targaryen was her betrothed. She was eight years old when she was told she would be meeting him for the first time.

Sansa did not know much of how she came to be betrothed but she knew the basics of the events that had led her here. It had started when her Aunt Lyanna had disappeared from Winterfell. Her grandfather and uncle Brandon had believed the Crown Prince of the Crownlands, Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped her and was holding her hostage. They had marched upon the Crownlands and its capital, Kings Landing, to free her and bring her home.

But Rhaegar’s father, dubbed The Mad King, had ordered that they be arrested and brought before him. He then sentenced them to death on the grounds of treason. Her grandfather had been burned alive in his armour. Her uncle had been tied to a pillar, a chain around his neck. He was told that if he could reach the sword placed in front of him, he and his father would go free.

He ended up strangling himself in the attempt.

Her father had then marched with his friend Robert Baratheon to get revenge for his kin and to save his beloved sister. He had left his wife and infant son in Catelyn’s birthplace of Riverrun in the Riverlands.

Rhaegar had been in Dorne when her grandfather and uncle had marched south but had returned to lead the Targaryen forces to the Trident where he met the Stark and Baratheon armies.

He had killed Robert Baratheon himself.

He had only spared Ned due to his love for Lyanna but had warned there would be a price to pay. He revealed tha he and Lyanna had married and she was carrying his child and was due to give birth any day. He had taken her father to the Tower of Joy in the Dornish mountains where he and Lyanna had been staying. However, when they arrived, they discovered that she was dying in a bed of blood, having just given birth to a son. With her dying breath, she had confessed she did not want a Targaryen name and had begged Rhaegar to name the child Jon instead, after his friend Jon Connington. Rhaegar had been too heartbroken to reject her wishes.

Her father had been allowed to return to the North with her mother and brother where they settled into Winterfell. A raven had arrived a mere two days later from Rhaegar, telling them that he had set up a council and removed his father from the throne. He was now the King.

He wrote that he wanted Ned’s firstborn daughter married to the child Lyanna bore him, Prince Jon. Betrothals were common in every family but her father had realised the underlying motive. Marrying the Princess of the North into the Targaryen family would cement an alliance between the Kingdoms, quelling any more thoughts of war. Her mother had apparently ripped the letter in half and thrown it in the fire. Her first-born daughter would not be a compromise, an apology or a peace offering, she had snapped. Especially when Rhaegar should not have ran off with Lyanna in the first place, breaking his betrothal to Elia Martell and causing the whole mess that happened afterwards. Why should their daughter suffer for the mistakes of those before her?

Catelyn Stark had only hoped that by the time her daughter was born, the new Targaryen tradition of broken proposals would only continue and the North would be left alone. However, despite Rhaegar himself breaking a proposal, as his grandfather and great uncle once had, he seemed determined to ensure a marriage between North and South would happen, a song of ice and fire as he called it. Catelyn and Ned had considered never having more children, despite their wishes to fill Winterfell with them. But they knew Rhaegar would be suspicious if no more children appeared and that he would most likely send a Maester north to assess the situation and gather information on why there seemed to be a problem, despite Tullys and Starks before birthing many a child. And when it would become clear that they had deliberately prevented having more children and avoiding fulfilling the bargain, no amount of love for Lyanna would spare his family. He had no choice but to promise his future eldest daughter’s hand. That is what he has told her over and over whenever Sansa asked.

Her father had always been affectionate with her, to the point of getting looks from the servants. It was strange for men to show affection to their sons, much less their daughters. But Ned would order winter roses to her rooms every week, would often place one in her hair at dinner with a smile that twinkled his eyes and an affectionate kiss on the cheek. He would ensure there were always lemons in Winterfell so that she could have her beloved lemon cakes all year round. He would spend a fortune hiring singers to come to Winterfell and feasts as often as he could because he knew how much she loved the music and the dancing. He would come to her room to read her the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Jenny of Oldstones and assure her that she could have a love like them, like he and her mother had. She would smile sadly at him but say nothing.

Sansa knew her father loved her, as he loved Robb and Arya and Bran, as he would no doubt love the child growing in her mother’s womb now. But she also believed he was over compensating, spoiling her in an attempt to make up for what he had taken from her, making up for the fact that her siblings would never be forced to marry like she was being forced to. Robb had openly started courting a maid from a lesser Westerlands house who he had met at a tourney in Riverrun. Normally, a girl like Jeyne Westerling would be lucky to even get a third son from a higher noble house as prestigious as the Starks. Jeyne was lovely and pretty and sweet, and Sansa had no doubt she could love her as a sister if Robb did indeed marry her, but a girl like her was never supposed to marry a crown prince. Her mother and father had not stopped him from courting her though, despite the grumblings of the Northern houses. When asked why the North’s daughters were not good enough for the Prince, Ned had simply replied that his sons heart was his own to give and if he wanted to marry the Westerling girl, he would not stop him. Catelyn had pursed her lips when Robb had told her he intended to court Jeyne but, like father, she simply said it was his choice to make in the end.

Sansa knew that Arya and Bran and the new babe would all be given the same freedom too. And as much as she loved her siblings, she could not help but resent them for not being born girls before her.


	2. I Can't Believe I'm Stuck With Her All Summer

“Stop that!”

Jon flinched, glancing up at his Aunt’s stern expression. His fingers stopped pulling at his cufflinks and he let his hands fall to his side. Daenerys’ expression softened.

“I know it is unfair,” she said. “But it may surprise you. Look at Drogo and I, who would have thought a man like him would make me happy?”

Jon said nothing but kept his eyes firmly on the Kings Road ahead of them. His father had arranged this match from the moment he was born and yet he could not even be here to witness Jon’s misery at being sold as a peace token. Rhaegar had said there was too much to do at court and had sent his sister to meet the Stark party with Jon.

His fingers moved to his cufflinks again but before Daenerys could scold him again, the horn blew and the Stark party began emerging around the corner. The Kings Road was flooded with white and grey as the escort party surrounded a simple grey carriage. Jon spotted a young girl, probably around five, riding on a horse beside the carriage. She had an auburn-haired male behind her who was holding the horse’s reigns as the girl conversed with whoever was in the carriage. The girl wrinkled her nose at whatever was being said and proceeded to survey her surroundings, an awestruck look coming across her face.

Finally, the men came to a stop and the doorman who had been sitting at the front of the carriage stepped down.

“I present King Eddard Stark of the North,” the doorman stated, opening the door for the King to emerge. Jon could not help but raise his eyebrows. He did not think the King in the North was one for riding in carriages. “And his eldest daughter, the Princess Sansa.”

Eddard turned and offered his hand to his daughter. Jon saw the red hair first, done up high on her head with two braids coming down over her shoulders. Jon scoffed. Dany elbowed him, shooting him another glare.

Eddard Stark brought Sansa to them, stopping just a few steps in front of him and Daenerys.

“King Eddard, we welcome you to King’s Landing,” Dany said, giving a small curtsey. “If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable you need only say.”

“I thank you for your hospitality Princess Daenerys,” Eddard responded before looking to Sansa. Daenerys nudged Jon again and he bit back a sigh as he stepped forward at the same time as Sansa.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Princess,” he muttered, barely looking at her. Sansa blinked before she smiled widely, dipping into a perfect curtsey.

“Pleased to meet you, Prince Jon,” she cooed. Jon nodded and moved to turn back, his eyes still on the ground.

“Ahem.”

Jon looked up at his Aunt and she raised her eyebrows expectantly. Jon resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he turned back to Sansa, taking her hand in his. He raised it to his mouth as quickly as possible, placing the barest touch of his lips to her skin before dropping it and moving back beside Daenarys. His Aunt audibly sighed.

The younger girl let out a loud laugh, her body shaking from it, even as the auburn-haired man dismounted and helped her down. The girl ran straight up to the Royal party, her laughter finally dying down but a huge grin on her face she seemed unable to suppress.

“I am Arya!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Are there really dragon skulls here?” Jon laughed.

“Arya, what did mother tell you before we left?” the auburn-haired boy sighed.

“Remember your courtesies and try to be a proper Lady,” she began. The boy hummed but Arya continued. “Well, I did try, right?” Arya grinned at him and the boy simply ruffled her hair with a smile of his own.

“You are a lost cause. No wonder mother was frantic at the thought of you coming along.” He turned to Jon then and stuck out his hand. “I am Robb by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jon said and actually meant it. Robb and Arya might make this summer bearable.

***

The Northern party was only staying for a fortnight and for the entire time he had barely seen Sansa except at meal times. He had spent most of his time with his friend Samwell as well as Robb and Arya, who had indeed made this summer bearable. Robb had sparred with him most mornings, with Arya shouting her encouragements from the edge of the training yard. Even now, while he lay in the dirt, Jon could barely suppress a laugh as Arya jumped up and down in delight of Robb’s victory over him. Robb held his hand out with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, family bias,” he said. Jon grinned.

“Understandable. It must be nice to have siblings. I often wondered what it would be like to have a brother or a sister.”

“It is as much a blessing as it is a curse,” Robb laughed as they moved to the benches to rest. Arya trailed after them.

“I’m the blessing and Sansa is the curse right Robb?” She stepped onto the bench behind them, moving across the wood on her tiptoes.

“Arya!” Robb said sharply, giving his sister a glare. She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder.

“I am joking!” Arya huffed, crossing her arms. Robb gave a small sound to show he didn’t believe her before he looked to him.

“Sansa and Arya are as different as the sun and the moon,” he said. “But I love them both fiercely." 

Arya came to sit beside Robb, who grinned at her. "And they love each other too really,” he said as he ruffled her hair, causing Arya to stick her tongue out at him while batting his hand away. “Where is Sansa anyway?” Robb asked her.

“Doing her boring needlework,” Arya scoffed. Jon repressed the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed that was all Sansa ever did. She would leave the banquet hall with a curtsey and a perfectly sweet “My Prince.” He would never see her again until the evening meal where they would greet each other stiffly. Jon could recognise talent in embroidery but he had no interest in it. It seemed as though that was all Sansa ever did though.

“You don’t complain when she fixes your breeches,” Robb stated simply.

“Jon!”

The three of them turned quickly, looking as though they were guilty of something. And looking at his Aunt’s stern expression, Jon could not help but feel guiltier even though he knew he had not done anything wrong. Daenerys suddenly smiled at Robb and Arya.

“Apologies Prince Robb, Princess Arya. May I steal my nephew from your company? Please feel free to continue using the training yard.” The siblings merely nodded as Jon got up and followed his Aunt back towards the keep.

“Where is your betrothed?” Daenerys asked. Jon shrugged.

“Arya reckoned she was doing needlework.”

“I wasn’t asking where Arya _thought_ she was. I am asking you where she actually is.”

“I don’t know,” he replied hotly. Surely Daenerys knew he spent next to no time with Sansa. The glare she gave him alerted him that yes, she definitely knew that he hardly saw Sansa and that it did not please her.

“You need to make more effort,” she said, her voice surprising soft for all the rage that had been on her face seconds before.

“Well I don’t see her making much effort!”

“She is in a foreign place with no friends. Her siblings are in your company more often than hers. She will be terrified while trying to show that she is not. Have you even talked to her?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

Daenerys sighed. “Please try. This could mean lasting peace for Westeros. If we unite the Crownlands and the North, the Riverlands and the Vale will stop hostilities towards us too. We could have a better world Jon.”

Jon bit his tongue to stop from pointing out that it was Father’s own fault that three other Kingdoms despised him. Running off with Lyanna Stark had done nothing but cause grief and suffering. And he was the one having to suffer for it.

“Did it ever once occur to you that your moping is downright insulting?” Daenerys stated suddenly. Jon came to a stop, leveling his Aunt with a glare. She gave him one right back and Jon had to look away. Daenerys' temper was frankly frightening. Once, after his own horse had succumbed to illness, he had taken her horse out for a ride without asking her, her favourite horse that her husband had gifted her on their wedding day. Nothing had happened of course but she had been livid when she found out. Jon had thought if dragons were still alive, his Aunt would have turned into one and burned him on the spot.

“You think you are the only person to ever be bartered off into an arranged marriage. You dare imply that in front of me as well! But more importantly, while you sulk about the fact you are betrothed to a stranger against your wishes you forget that Sansa is in the exact same situation as you. And it is worse for her because she will have to leave her home, her family and everything she loves, only to see them every few years when she has time to visit. So I am telling you now Jon, make an effort or so help me, I will have you sent to The Wall!”

“Sorry,” Jon muttered, genuinely ashamed of the attitude he had had the last fortnight. Daenerys' expression softened and she touched his arm gently.

“If, when you are both old enough, there is still nothing there then I will try and talk to Rhaegar about it,” she said. “But, for now, at least attempt to court her.”

“She leaves tomorrow morning anyway,” he replied, half glad he didn’t have to fulfill the promise. Daenerys simply smiled.

“Good thing you will see her in two summers then. I hear she loves lemon cakes, by the way.”


	3. A Thawing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, ages are changed in this AU. In the last chapter, the ages were:
> 
> Robb - 14 (in this chapter 16), Jon - 11 (In this chapter 13), Sansa - 9 (In this chapter, 11), Arya - 6 (in this chapter, 8), Dany - 17 (In this chapter 19. Also no Viserys in this AU, she was the next born after Rhaegar)
> 
> Other characters mentioned in this chapter and their ages as of now are:  
> Jeyne Westerling (16)  
> Bran (5)  
> Rickon (2)  
> I'm also going with UK modern laws of 16 being age to marry so Dany was married just after turning 16 and Jon and Sansa are expected to marry when she turns 16.

Robb declared that he would marry Jeyne Westerling a week after Jeyne turned sixteen. It was decided that it would take place in the summer, when Jon and the Targaryens were to be visiting Winterfell. The Lannisters were also going to be in attendance, since the Westerlings were a House that swore fealty to the Royal Lannister family of the Westerlands.

It was while her mother was tying her hair into a braid that the knock came to the door and a servant announced that the Targaryen sigils had been seen along the Kings Road.  Catelyn had thanked the servant and asked them to collect Rickon for her. When the servant left, her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“My brave girl,” she whispered.

“I am a Stark,” Sansa replied simply before giving her mother a smile. “Of course, I am brave.”

Her mother smiled back at her sadly but said nothing more, instead stepping away to allow Sansa to stand. They could hear the excited shouts of Arya and Bran echoing down the hallway until they appeared in her chambers, out of breath and faces flushed.

“Honestly!” Catelyn scolded, shaking her head at them. “Your house sigil may be a wolf but that doesn’t mean you should run around the castle like beasts. Especially when we have guests!”

“Sorry mother,” they replied. But then Arya added “But we’re going to be late!” And she turned as if to leave when Catelyn had grabbed her shoulder.

“How in the name of the seven do you have dirt on your face already?” she asked, wiping the mark with her thumb as Arya squirmed away from the touch. Bran giggled at his sister’s torment just as Robb appeared in the doorway with Rickon.

“Are we ready to go?”

***

She was pleasantly surprised when Jon presented a crate of lemons to her parents, mumbling that they should be used to make lemon cakes for her. Her mother had thanked him, although it was a clipped response. Her father had simply raised an eyebrow and signalled for the servant to take the crate to the cooks. It was a sweet enough gesture, and she was never going to refuse an opportunity of lemon cakes. But she had the feeling that it was Daenerys who had told Jon about her love of the treat for it was only Daenerys who had really spoken to her when she had visited Kings Landing two years prior. Jon had barely acknowledged her at all so she had passed the time in her embroidery, feeling alone and betrayed by Robb and Arya’s immediate liking to Jon. However, if this was Jon’s effort to at least try and gain her favour, she would play her role as well.

“Thank you, my prince,” she beamed at him. “Lemon cakes are my favourite.”

Jon had nodded but Sansa noticed Daenerys’ smug look, confirming her suspicions that it was her who had planned to win her favour. Still, she would let Jon take the credit if it would make the next two weeks less awkward for everyone.

But then she wondered why she bothered when Jon went straight to Robb to shake his hand and ruffle Arya’s hair. Bran introduced himself and Rickon and Jon was kneeling down to speak to them. Her youngest brothers beamed at whatever Jon had said and Sansa sighed. It seemed that everyone was loving Jon except her, who had to be the one to spend the rest of her life with him. She remembered one time, Arya had told her that Jon was not so bad and Sansa had yelled that she should marry him instead. But Arya had simply made a retching sound and left the room without another word.

Now she was watching as Robb, Jon and Arya walked towards the castle and Sansa sighed again before setting towards the Godswood for some peace and quiet. She would do her duty for the good of the realm and her family. She just wished Jon would at least try to do the same.

***

It was like it had been before. She retreated to her embroidery or reading in the library while Jon spent time sparring with Robb and exploring Winterfell with Arya and Bran in tow. She only saw Jon at mealtimes and though he had at least started giving a half attempt of a smile when she entered (an improvement on the scowl from before at least) he still didn’t approach her or talk to her. She wondered how they could be married when they seemed to have nothing in common at all. And Jon could clearly not stand to be in the same room as her. Would Rheagar punish her family for this? Would he blame her mother and father for not giving Jon a better wife? Would Jon take a mistress and make a mockery of her?

She slammed the book she was reading shut in anger, fed up reading about Aemon the dragon knight. She leaned back in the chair with her arms crossed and glanced out of the window. She could see Robb and Jon in the courtyard, Robb laughing at something before looking to the side where Jeyne was approaching him. She straightened up, watching as Robb smiled at Jeyne and took her hand before gesturing to Jon. Jon bowed and kissed her hand, saying something that made Jeyne and Robb exchange smiles with each other. Sansa scowled, falling backwards again. She was jealous of Robb, she could admit it. She wanted somebody to love her like he loved Jeyne.

She was distracted by the sound of the door opening and turned to see Arya’s head appearing through the door. She looked around the room and then when she saw Sansa, she closed the door and came bounding up to her.

“Come riding with us,” she said, taking Sansa’s hand and trying to pull her sister out of her chair. Sansa tensed, pulling her hand out of Arya’s grasp and narrowing her eyes.

“Who is going riding?” she asked.

“Me, Robb and Jon,” Arya replied and seeing Sansa’s look, rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on!”

“Why?” Sansa asked. “So, Jon can make me feel stupid and worthless in my own kingdom? No thank you!”

Arya frowned, moving to sit next to Sansa. “Is that how he makes you feel?” she asked with genuine concern.

Sansa turned to face Arya in surprise. She and Arya had become a little closer as they had grown older, mostly due to their father reminding them that they were sisters and should embrace their differences. Robb had also grown exasperated from being the neutral force between them and eventually sat them down to remind them that while disagreeing with siblings was normal, being mean and deliberately goading each other was unacceptable for daughters of Winterfell. Sansa loved Robb and Arya loved and admired him too and they had promised to be better towards each other. Sansa still wrinkled her nose at Arya’s ruined clothes after she had been playing with their brothers and Arya still thought Sansa’s love of sewing was boring. But they accepted that was what made them, them.

And though she never said anything to anyone, Sansa also thought that Arya was braver than her. Arya had the courage to follow through on whatever she wanted and Sansa wished she could be as strong and defiant as her wolf of a sister. Although, there was always a warmth in her heart when she thought about the time she had overheard Arya talking with Robb.

“I don’t hate her,” Arya had said with such harsh honesty, as if offended anyone would think such a thing. “I just don’t understand why she wants to be a lady and be cooped up inside. It baffles me.”

“Well, she’ll be thinking the same seeing your muddy boots trailing the halls,” Robb had responded.

“Don’t tell her,” Arya went on, dropping her voice to a whisper. “But I think she’s brave. Braver than I could ever be to give up her dreams so we could have ours.”

“Aye,” Robb had said sadly. “We can put aside our own expectations of duty because Sansa is doing hers.”

But despite their growing closeness over the years, Arya wasn’t the comforting type. She would absolutely challenge anyone who hurt her family but she would not sit and let anyone sob into her shoulder. As if sensing her confusion, Arya shrugged.

“You’re my sister,” she stated simply at Sansa’s confused look. “I want you to be happy. Even if you are annoying and boring sometimes.”

“Thanks. Means a lot coming from a little animal like you.”

They smiled at each other, at their inside joke and then Arya had stood to look out of the window. Sansa followed her gaze to see Robb and Jon bringing the horses out into the courtyard. She sighed, secretly pleased that Arya had asked for her to come with them. She was beginning to feel abandoned in her own home.

“Let me just get changed and I’ll join you.”

Arya nodded and bounded down the corridor, heading back outside to meet the boys. Sansa turned to go to her chambers, passing her father’s solar on the way. She could hear her mother and father talking in whispers inside and had she not heard her own name, she would have continued instead of eavesdropping.

“I don’t trust them Ned. Especially around Sansa.”

“Nor do I but they are the Westerlings’ royal family. We can’t turn them away.”

“No,” her mother said with a sigh. “But maybe we should tell Sansa to stay away from Cersei.”

Sansa frowned, moving away from the door and continuing towards her chambers. She had heard that Cersei Lannister was very beautiful but she didn’t know what she could possibly want with her. But mother sounded as though she really didn’t like the woman and Sansa had always been close to her mother. Her mother’s dislike of Jon was part of the reason Sansa hadn’t really been thrilled herself with the betrothal. But she was her mother’s daughter, she would do her duty for her family.

She reached her room, quickly changing into her riding clothes and fastening her cloak to her neck. She grabbed her gloves and hesitated as she looked at the other pair sitting on her desk. She trailed her fingers across the leather, the grey wolf and the red dragon design bumping against her fingertips. She had made them for Jon, hoping to show that she was willing to try and get to know him if he would give her the same courtesy. She sighed, picking them up and gently placed them in her pocket before leaving to meet her siblings and Jon in the courtyard.

“Sansa?”

She turned at her father’s voice as he emerged from his solar, her mother appearing beside him and looking surprised at seeing her daughter in riding gear. Her father also raised his eyebrows but said nothing about it, instead motioning for her to come into his solar.

“Father, I am sorry but Robb, Arya and Jon are waiting for me,” she said, looking towards the stairs that led down to the entrance hall.

“This won’t take long but it is important sweetling,” he responded, still holding the door open. She nodded, moving inside and taking a seat at the desk. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at her parents expectedly.

“Sansa sweetling, we must tell you something,” Catelyn said, moving to push Sansa’s braid over her shoulder so it fell over her back. Sansa smiled, her mother never could resist touching her hair.

“You know that the Lannisters will arrive today, for the wedding tomorrow,” Ned began and Sansa nodded. “Cersei Lannister may well approach you. I urge you to remember your courtesies if she does but do not spend any more time than is necessary.”

“What would Cersei want with me?” Sansa asked in bewilderment.

“It is hard to tell what that woman wants,” Catelyn said. “But she is not to be trusted Sansa. Stay away from her, and all the Lannisters if you can.”

“Very well,” Sansa nodded, still not really understanding but trying to stop her parents from worrying. They briefly smiled and Sansa quickly stood. “I really must go!” she exclaimed.

Jon and Arya were already on their horses by the time she reached the courtyard and Robb was leading two horses out by the reigns. She quickly crossed over to him, murmuring apologies and explaining that mother and father had kept her, though she did not tell him the nature of the conversation. Robb simply smiled before grabbing her waist and hoisting her up on to her horse. She turned to where Jon and Arya were conversing, her hand slipping into her pocket to grab the gloves. She took a steadying breath, kicking her horse into a gentle walk to approach them.

Jon saw her first stopping mid-sentence as she approached. Arya turned her head and Sansa noted she looked a little too pleased with herself but she couldn’t dwell on what Arya had been saying or doing with Jon, her courage was already wavering as she stopped beside them and pulled the gloves from her pocket and wordlessly held them out to Jon.

He blinked at them, his brows furrowing as he looked back at her. “For me?” he asked, looking again at the gloves. She nodded.

“It is a peace offering,” she said as he took the gloves, sliding his old ones off and slipping the new ones on, clenching his fist to stretch the material. “I would hope to start again, if it pleases you.”

“Yes, I am afraid I have been quite rude to you,” he replied and his eyes darted towards Arya and Robb. So, Sansa mused, her siblings had spoken to him about his behaviour. They weren’t betraying her after all but actually trying to make this betrothal work. His lips curved into a small smile as he looked at her again. “This is amazing, Sansa. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied with her own smile. “So, I guess embroidery isn’t so silly after all.”

He let out a nervous laugh, his hand running through his curls and settling at the back of his neck as he gave a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

“I suppose I can make an exception, my lady.”

“Urgh, are we going to have to watch you guys kiss?” Arya said suddenly and Jon’s cheeks coloured a little as he gave a nervous cough. Sansa glanced at her sister but saw her grinning at her. She managed a smile back and mouthed a thank you to her sister. Arya may look most like a Stark of all her siblings but she was as much a Tully as them too, she would make sure her family were safe and happy.

***

By the time they had returned from riding, the Lannister banners had been spotted approaching Winterfell. The rest of the Westerlings had arrived with them and Robb all but leapt from his horse as Jeyne emerged from the castle, scooping her up in his arms and twirling her around. Arya gagged as she passed Sansa, heading for the stables.

“I was surprised Lord Stark was in the carriage with you when we first met,” Jon said suddenly once Arya was out of earshot.

“Father is very loving with me,” Sansa replied. “He wanted to sit with me and tell me how wonderful Kings Landing and the South would be. He is trying to make up for what he can’t control.”

“I am sorry,” Jon said. “I was so caught up in what I felt about it all, I never thought how you would feel. But, I suppose that is one thing we do have in common.”

“Yes, I hear hating the thought of marrying your betrothed is the key to a long and successful marriage,” Sansa quipped but she smiled at his shocked expression.

“You’re not at all what I thought you were,” he finally said with a small laugh. Sansa raised an eyebrow.

“What did you think I was?”

“Spoiled,” he replied and had the decency to look sheepish as she glared at him. “I thought you felt you were better than everyone, especially Arya.”

“The Septa always told me I was better than Arya and that I was the perfect daughter,” Sansa replied, feeling guilty at the memory. “When I was younger, I loved the praise. But now I know that Arya and I are just different. I could never be as good a rider as Arya, or as good with a sword.”

“I felt like I couldn’t approach you, that you would laugh at me or say something that would make me feel unworthy of your time. I am sorry, I should have had more courage to speak with you and realise you weren’t being spiteful.”

“I am sorry if my behaviour made you think I was unapproachable. Ironically, it was your withdrawn approach that made me more determined not to be around you. It seems we are as bad as each other. Perhaps we are a match after all.” Jon laughed and she smiled at the sound.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty one?”

Sansa turned at the voice, staring into bright green eyes. She took in the lion pendant and the golden hair that was twisted around her head. This had to be Cersei Lannister, she thought as she bowed her head respectively.

“Your highness,” she greeted demurely. Cersei’s lips twitched.

“You have your mother’s beauty,” Cersei said after a moment of silence. Sansa swallowed nervously, remembering her parents’ words about staying away from Cersei.

“Thank you,” Sansa replied with a smile. “Forgive me, but I must return my horse to the stables and prepare for the feast tonight.”

“Of course,” Cersei replied with a smile that seemed too forced. Her green eyes looked to Jon and she smiled wider, showing her teeth. “Your Prince will no doubt be taken with you regardless though.”

Sansa and Jon exchanged a glance before Sansa looked to Cersei again. However, the woman merely tilted her head in farewell before she turned and walked back to where her father and brother, Jaime were standing. Sansa let out a breath.

“Mother and father told me to stay away from her,” she confessed, her hands gripping the reigns of her horse as she tried to hide her nerves. “I can see why, I get such an awful feeling from her.”

“Me too,” said Jon as he frowned at Cersei’s retreating figure.


	4. This is my idea (of love)

Jon clenched his fists as his narrowed eyes watched Theon Greyjoy’s hand settle on Sansa’s hip, pulling her close as they started their dance. Sansa’s cheeks were flushed, her head tipping back at something Theon said that caused those cheeks to redden even more.

Rhaegar had decided to throw a tourney this year and had invited the noble and royal families from all the seven kingdoms of Westeros. Rumour was he was looking for another wife after reading about an old prophecy. Jon wasn’t sure how he felt about the rumours to be honest. He had never known his mother and he was fifteen now, it had been a long time since she had died to bring him into the world. But still, a part of him felt betrayed that his father was looking for another when he had claimed to love Lyanna Stark so dearly.

“Just ask her to dance yourself,” Arya suddenly muttered next to him as she tore into her chicken leg. Ned moved to grab her hand, giving her a stern look until she placed the meat back on her plate and picked up her cutlery instead.

“I don’t dance,” Jon replied, eyes still on the dancing pair. He could feel Arya roll her eyes beside him.

“They do make a pretty pair, don’t they?”

Jon jerked at the voice, turning to see Cersei standing behind the chair beside him, her gaze on Theon and Sansa as well and a small curve to her mouth as she turned her gaze to Jon, as if she found the whole thing amusing. Jon resisted the urge to glare. He had had a bad feeling about Cersei when he had visited Winterfell two summers ago and seeing the golden woman now hadn’t abated his wariness. He forced himself to watch the dancing again, taking a long sip of his wine to prevent himself from speaking out of turn. Ned’s eyes narrowed on the Lannister woman but she seemed to take no notice.

“Such a pretty little dove,” Cersei said as though to herself, her lips twitching up further as Sansa laughed again. Jon’s hand clenched tighter around his cup.

“Jon,” his father called suddenly, making his way across the hall. The dancers stopped as he passed, bowing and curtseying. Jon watched Sansa gracefully dip into a flawless curtsey but managed to tear his arms away as he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder. Rhaegar moved towards the seat beside Jon and Cersei gave a small curtsey as she moved to let him pass. His father gave her a small nod in thanks as he sat. “Jon, why are you not dancing with your betrothed?”

“I can’t dance,” Jon protested weakly. Rhaegar sighed.

“You received dancing lessons like every royal child before you,” he responded, moving to pour a cup of wine for himself. Jon huffed but said nothing. Rhaegar continued. “You just don’t want to dance because you don’t want to be close enough to her that you have to admit you like her.”

“I don’t,” he said on instinct. It was something he had been saying for years that it came out from sheer habit. Arya snorted, shaking her head and muttering something about stupid and boys. Jon swallowed as he corrected himself. “I mean, I do like her…now … I like her company …as a friend.”

“Seven hells,” Arya muttered, shaking her head again.

“A friend,” Rhaegar repeated slowly but then he gave a laugh. “Marriages have been built on far worse I suppose.”

Jon scowled as his father and Arya snickered on either side of him. Even Ned’s lips twitched and Jon felt embarrassed at being the butt of a joke he hadn’t even realised he had made. The dance finally ended, Theon pressed a kiss to Sansa’s hand that had her grinning as she gave a small curtsey and made her way back to their table.

“Princess Sansa,” Rhaegar said as he moved to stand, holding the chair out for her. Jon took a large gulp of wine as Sansa beamed, bobbing into a curtsey again and thanking the King.

“How are you, my Prince?” she asked Jon once she was seated.

“Fine,” Jon muttered, glancing away. Sansa’s smile faltered and he felt immediately guilty. “Sorry, this isn’t really my sort of thing,” he added quickly, wanting to make her happy again. It worked for her smile returned and she moved to pat his hand.

“I’m sorry for that,” she said. Jon’s eyes remained fixed on their hands, his throat bobbing as he felt his cheeks heat up. “I was just thinking that you didn’t want to spend time with me.”

“I do,” he blurted out before he could stop himself, cringing at her raised eyebrows and Arya shaking in silent laugher next to him. He nudged the girl in annoyance but that just made her laugh out loud. Sansa narrowed her eyes at her sister and Arya managed to compose herself enough to excuse herself although she started sniggering again as she passed. Sansa shook her head at her retreating form.

“I do want to spend time with you,” Jon repeated before taking another sip of his wine. Sansa turned to him again.

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet, Jon Targaryen?”

Jon choked on his drink, drops flying from his mouth and onto his doublet as he spluttered through his shock. Sansa kept her gaze on him as she watched him try to compose himself. He put the cup down and turned towards her.

“I … I didn’t realise that you wanted me to kiss you,” he replied dumbly.

“Do you not want to kiss me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in challenge. Jon continued to stare at her dumbly as he tried to gather his thoughts. But Sansa clearly took his silence and rigidness to mean a rejection.

“I understand,” she said coolly, leaving him briskly but Jon saw the tears starting to flow down her cheeks.

“Stark girls are notoriously difficult.”

Jon clenched his eyes shut, releasing a breath through his nose as Cersei’s voice returned. He forced his eyes open as the woman sat beside him, moving to take the abandoned cup of wine his father had left. She regarded him over the rim of her cup.

“But a handsome young man like you, you shouldn’t need to worry too much about your needs. If she won’t do her duties, there will be plenty of girls willing to give you sons.”

Jon flushed in equal parts embarrassment from the implication of sex and anger at the fact Cersei thought he would dishonour Sansa in such a way. He levelled Cersei with a glare as he explained as much.

“I will not dishonour my wife and I will never father a bastard,” he seethed. Cersei raised an eyebrow before looking into her cup as though the wine was the most interesting thing in the world.

“You can only dishonour your wife, if you make her your wife,” she said after a moment before drowning the drink and moving to leave.

***

“Ow!” Jon cried out, rubbing the back of his head where Arya had thrown a small stone at it. She must have followed him out to the Godswood. He turned to glare at her but it faltered in the wake of Arya’s own anger. She stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes like daggers on him and he felt himself unconsciously taking a step back.

“Sansa was crying all night,” Arya said. Jon swallowed against the guilt as Arya stomped towards him and poked him in the chest. He winced at the force of it. “Fix it!” she hissed before turning to leave. Jon rubbed his chest, whispering another ow to himself as he tried to think of what to do.

He wished Daenerys had come for she would know how to win Sansa around. She had been instrumental in helping them to find common ground. But Daenerys was across the Narrow Sea with her husband, apparently due her first child and unable to travel. Robb too had been unable to travel, agreeing to rule of Winterfell in his father’s stead so Ned and Catelyn could see Catelyn’s family at the tourney. Bran had come this time with Arya and Ned but he was too young to really understand what was going on. Only Arya was here to offer any advice and it was clear she believed Jon should fix his own mess this time.

He frowned, turning back to the keep. He was still not sure what he should do as he walked into the entrance hall. He was loathed to resort to asking his father for advice but his father had once wooed a Northern girl, had a love for stories and songs like Sansa did. Surely, if anyone would have advice, his father would. Even if it meant he would have to live with his father’s smug smile at his plan working out in the end.

He sighed as he knocked on his father’s solar, waiting for the soft voice to beckon him in. Rhaegar glanced up from the letter he was reading and Jon wasn’t shocked by the look of surprise on his father’s face at seeing him here. Jon loved his father, he truly did and Jon knew that Rhaegar loved him, especially with how much Jon was said to look like Lyanna. But a younger, more foolish Jon had withdrawn from his father’s affections when he believed he was being hard done by in being forced to marry Sansa.

“What is the matter son?” Rhaegar asked, sitting back in his seat to regard him. Jon felt guilty at how happy his father sounded to see him. Had it been so long since Jon had last sought him out? Jon didn’t like to think of how he couldn’t recall in that moment the last time he had willingly come to speak to his father.

“Sansa’s upset,” Jon said eventually, his hands clasping behind his back and his head bowing as he shuffled his feet. Rhaegar said nothing for a moment and Jon continued. “I upset her last night and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“What happened?” Rhaegar asked and Jon was glad he hadn’t asked ‘what did you do?’ as though knowing that Jon had never meant to hurt her.

“I haven’t kissed her yet,” Jon replied, his cheeks colouring as he realised how stupid he sounded. He chanced a glance at his father and saw his lips twitch before he managed to compose himself enough to respond.

“Oh. Well, I don’t see that being too difficult to fix.”

“She thinks I don’t want to kiss her,” Jon explained. Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands together.

“Do you want to kiss her?”

Jon opened his mouth to respond that he didn’t know, which was a definite improvement on no, he supposed. But then he thought of how beautiful Sansa looked last night and how it had filled him with jealousy to see her in Theon’s arms, laughing and smiling with him instead of with Jon. Rhaegar smiled gently as Jon’s cheeks coloured again.

“I don’t think she’d let me kiss her now,” Jon tried to jape but now that he was actually thinking about kissing Sansa, the idea that she wouldn’t want to kiss him was making him feel nervous and self-conscious.

“So, do something for her then,” Rhaegar responded, moving to pick the letter up again. Jon frowned.

“Like what?” Jon asked, annoyed at the lack of advice. Rhaegar smiled again even if he didn’t look up.

“I daresay that after all these years you’ll know what she likes,” he said simply.

***

“When I said for you to fix it, I didn’t mean get yourself killed,” Arya said as she watched his squire place his armour on. Bran ran eagerly for Jon’s helmet, beaming at Jon when he thanked him. Jon shrugged, meeting Arya’s stare in the mirror.

“Admit it,” he said with a grin. “It is something Sansa will appreciate.”

“Yes, I daresay she will relish your demise right now,” Arya responded dryly as she leaned against the table. Jon’s grin fell. Arya must have taken pity at the sight for she continued. “But, if you do live long enough to reveal yourself as her knight, then yes, I’m sure she will fawn over you like a lady in a song.”

“Call yourself Florian,” Bran supplied. “She loves Jonquil and Florian, it is her favourite story.”

Jon nodded as he pushed the visor of his helmet down. Arya and Bran left the tent first, walking with Jory Cassel towards the seats to join Ned, Catelyn and Sansa. He swallowed thickly as he looked at Sansa, her hair left down to be teased with the gentle breeze. She was looking at the knights that were gathering for the jousting but Jon caught her glancing back to where his father was sitting and the empty chair that he should occupy.

Jon Connington approached him, clapping him on the shoulder with a wry chuckle. “Well my boy, what will be your hidden identity name?”

“Florian,” Jon answered, glad the helmet hid his flush as his namesake threw his head back and laughed.

“Ser Florian,” Connington roared, holding Jon’s hand up. He noticed Bran grinning at him and Arya rolling her eyes even as she smiled. Sansa’s eyes had widened, a smile lighting up her whole face and her cheeks had coloured a pretty pink.

Jon wondered why it had taken him so long to realise how much he wanted to kiss her.

The tournament had gone well, he had bested Renly Baratheon rather easily but he felt like Renly was just taking part because it was expected of him, rather than because he really wanted to. Loras Tyrell had been a good match, it had taken three runs before he managed to knock the Knight of Flowers from his horse.

Jaime Lannister was especially tough though. Jon still thinks it was sheer dumb luck that had given him that hit that had sent Jamie tumbled, only missing Jaime’s own lance by mere millimetres. While he was still sore from the hits he had taken, rubbing ointment on the bruise on his chest, he had to admit, seeing Cersei seethe with rage at her brother’s defeat had been worth the pain of this plan of his.

He glanced over to where Sansa was sitting, her head bowed as she talked with Arya excitedly. Arya shrugged in response to whatever Sansa was saying and they both looked out into the crowd again. Jon’s next opponent trotted into the area, his blonde hair glinting in the sunlight.

Jon’s squire quickly donned his armour again while Jon watched his newest and final rival – Harry Hardyling he recalled now, push his horse up to Sansa, gifting her with a small rose. Sansa beamed at him, her eyes lowering as she murmured her thanks, her cheeks flushed from the attention. Jon clenched his fists, shoving his visor down roughly before moving to his horse.

He couldn’t lie and say it hadn’t felt tremendously good to knock Harry down on the first hit. It was only the courtesies installed into him from birth that had allowed him to attempt to look concerned as the boy spat the dirt from his mouth, his cheeks flushed in angry humiliation.

He dismounted and took the wreath of blue roses he had arranged for Connington to bring if he won. His heart was beating loudly in his chest as he turned to where the Starks were sitting. They were all clapping along with the crowd. Ned and Catelyn were still seated but were smiling in awe of the victory. Bran was holding his hands up high, standing up on his seat as if trying to make sure Jon could see him. Arya was standing too, a huge grin on her face as she clapped. And Sansa, Sansa looked ecstatic, the rose Harry had given her abandoned on her seat as she watched him approach. Jon swallowed as he grasped the wreath in one hand, his other rising to remove his helmet.

“For my Jonquil,” he said as he pulled the helmet off and held the wreath out to Sansa. She stilled, gasping along with the crowd at his revealed identity and her quivering hands reached for the flowers. “My Queen of Love and Beauty.”

And Sansa’s eyes were full of tears again but she was smiling so wide that he knew he had done something right. And so, taking courage from her response, he pushed himself up to the barrier, one hand grasping the wooden pole to balance himself while the other grasped her cheek.

“May your champion have a kiss, my lady?” he asked. Sansa bit her lip for a second before grasping his cheeks and pulling him down to her lips.

The crowd roared in approval and when he pulled back he looked to his father who had smiled at him, giving him an approving nod. Even Ned and Catelyn had small smiles on their faces. But Sansa’s smile was brightest of all, she looked positively radiant.

“So, you do want to kiss me after all?” she teased, her breath ghosting his lips. Jon smiled in response before pulling her into another kiss.


	5. Thy Kingdom Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this goes from fluff to angst in about ten seconds lol

She giggled as Jon pulled her into an alcove, his lips on her own before her back even hit the wall. She groaned softly, her arms encircling his neck, his fingers grasping the fabric at her waist as he pushed himself against her.

She had been on the way to her sewing lessons but it would appear Jon had other ideas. She knew she was going to be reprimanded for being late. But she couldn’t pull herself away from him and only pulled back from his sweet, hot mouth to breathe. Jon rested his head against hers as his lips, swollen and perfect, curved into a small smile.

“How long until we can be wed?” he whispered, lips trailing a path up her neck. Sansa laughed, her fingers running through his hair in encouragement of his attention, a pleasant hum following on.

“I turn sixteen in three weeks,” she replied. “You’ve waited this long.”

“And that has been long enough!” he huffed biting her earlobe that caused her laughter to die in to a soft groan. She turned her head, capturing his lips again.

“Sansa?”

They sprang apart at the sound of her mother’s voice, sounding close enough that she was in the corridor. Sansa and Jon held their breath as they saw her pass, waiting for a moment before looking at each other and descending into uncontrollable giggles.

Sansa ran a hand through her hair to tame it and Jon straightened his doublet. They exchanged another giddy smile before Jon slipped his hand in hers, looking to check the corridor was clear and then leading her back out of their hiding place. Sansa couldn’t stop smiling all the way to the sewing room, even as Septa Mordane clucked her tongue in disapproval. She couldn’t help but smile as Jon tilted her head up and placed a kiss to her lips before bowing to the girls and leaving.

“You look awful when you blush. It clashes terribly with your hair,” Arya commented as Sansa sat beside her but her sister was smiling at her all the same.

“Sansa, you know better than this. You shouldn’t be wandering the castle with Jon, alone,” their septa said sternly.

“He is my betrothed,” Sansa replied simply.

“Yes, but not your husband yet,” the septa reminded her sharply.

“What difference does it make?” Arya asked, even as her eyes were focused on her needlework, a frown appearing in between them as she struggled with the needle.

“It is not proper.”

“He’ll be bedding her officially in three weeks anyway,” Arya continued with a shrug. “What does it matter if they do it now?”

Jeyne Poole and Beth giggled to themselves, tilting their heads down to hide their amusement from the septa. Sansa felt herself flush again, casting her eyes down to avoid the look of horror on Mordane’s face.

“We’re not,” she said, looking up at her septa. “We only kissed a little.”

“Well, just make sure to have a chaperon next time,” Mordane sniffed.

***

Her mother came to her at night to brush her hair and Sansa smiled at her in the mirror as she entered. Her mother had been hesitant to this marriage before, believing it was taking away Sansa’s chance of happiness. But when she saw what Jon had done with the tourney, she had softened towards the match and declared if Sansa was happy, then she was too. But Sansa knew her mother was also saddened by the fact that Sansa would be leaving Winterfell and the North once she was wed. Her mother always loved to brush her hair but she had been coming every single night for the last few weeks, savouring the last few moments with her daughter.

“I have something for you,” her mother said, holding a garment across her arms. Sansa turned from her vanity and stood, crossing to her mother to look. The material was soft as her fingers tracing the shape of the direwolf. A maidens cloak, she realised.

“Your father draped me in this when I married him,” her mother explained, smiling softly at the memory. “And now it is yours, sweetling.”

“Thank you, mother.”

Her mother smiled again, moving to hang the cloak over the dressing screen in the corner of Sansa’s chambers while Sansa sat in front of the mirror again. Her mother came to her, humming to herself as she let her fingers trail through Sansa’s hair, the brush following just as tenderly.

“Mother,” Sansa began, feeling her cheeks flush as her mother hummed for her to continue. “Does it hurt? The bedding?”

Catelyn stopped for a moment, regarding her in the mirror. She seemed to think for a moment before resuming her movements and speaking again.

“It is uncomfortable at first,” she said slowly. “But if the man is good and gentle, it isn’t so bad after a time. And the act itself gets better after the first time.”

Sansa nodded to herself and closed her eyes at the sensation of the brush through her locks. She was still nervous but mother had said it wouldn’t be so bad if the man was good and she knew that Jon was a good man. He would be gentle, she knew it.

***

Two days before the wedding, Jeyne’s mother came to visit with some of her household. It caused a bit of a panic as everyone had been preparing for the wedding rather than sudden guests. But Sybil Spicer, as she was known, was insistent upon coming to see her daughter when she heard Jeyne was with child.

Sansa was sitting in the Godswood, underneath the heart tree imagining her wedding. Jon would be standing here in two days time, watching her come down the path with her father. She had made a dress of white ivory colour and she would wear the pendent Daenerys had gifted her for the wedding of a three-headed dragon entangled with the grey wolf.

She was still nervous about the bedding but was relieved both Jon and her father had put their foot down and refused to hold a bedding ceremony. It was fine in the North, where her Father ruled but she feared when Jon and her went south and renewed their vows they would not be so fortunate in their privacy. Still, at least by then they might be comfortable with the act, she thought with a slight blush.

She heard footsteps approaching and smiled to herself, sure it was Jon coming to find her. Or even Arya, they were quiet steps after all. Her sister was perhaps coming to spend some time with her, her last few opportunities to see her sister. Her smile grew when she heard the footsteps stop and she turned her head slightly, looking among the trees that surrounded her.

“Jon?” she called softly.

No response.

Arya then.

“Arya?” she tried, cocking her head to the side. Nothing. She huffed, standing up and edging closer to the trees. “Don’t try and sneak up on me, you brat,” she called teasingly but her smile was slowly dying when still there was no sound.

“Bran?” she tried, although Bran rarely played pranks on her or tried to scare her. He was too sweet for that. “Rickon?”

“Say their names now, Princess,” a man’s voice rasped. Sansa turned, catching the huge silhouette of a man among the trees. She stepped back. He stepped forward. “You won’t be seeing them again.”

A hand came down on her shoulder, her scream muffled by the cloth thrust against her mouth. She kicked out, hands scrambling up to try and push the cloth away, too late realising the smell that hit her nostrils.  She felt tears roll down her cheek as her body sagged, drugged into submission and she caught the sigil of a black dog on yellow shield before darkness took her.

***

Her head was pounding when she awoke, her eyes struggling to open as the effects of whatever drug they had used on her. It took several blinks to realise the golden bars that surrounded her, a large cage keeping her trapped. She glanced around her, frowning at the woodlands around them and the lake behind her.

“Hello, little dove.”

She turned her head to see Cersei perched on a rock to her side, regarding her over the rim of her wine goblet as she took a long drink. When she lowered it, she was smirking.

“Where am I?” she asked, wishing her voice wasn’t shaking. Cersei laughed but didn’t answer, instead taking another drink. Her green eyes never leaving her prisoner. Sansa swallowed, looking around the room for any sign of where she could be. But there were no decorations anywhere, the room was empty but for the throne and the cage.

“What do you want?” she asked after a moment. “My father can…”

“Your father will never find you,” Cersei replied simply and Sansa stopped her sentence in shock. “Nobody will find you."

"It isn't exactly the most secretive place," Sansa stated, casting a look around again. It could take a while for her father's men to come across her but being out in the open, she didn't think it would it would be difficult for them to find her, and in a cage. Cersei smiled, her eyes darting to somewhere behind Sansa.

"Qyburn, do it now," she stated firmly.

Sansa barely had time to turn her head when she felt a hard grip on her shoulder, wrenching her arm back. The needle pierced her skin even as she bucked and thrust her other hand across her body, twisting herself in order to claw her nails into her attackers face. Cersei gave a sound of amusement as the man backed off, the needle clattering to the bottom of the cage. Sansa panted, scooting her body away quickly, her wide eyes darting between the man and Cersei, who was watching her intently, her green eyes gleaming.

Sansa felt her eyes drooping, her whole body convulsing as she succumbed to darkness.

When she woke again, she shook her head to clear it, confusion flooding her as she heard rustling at the movement. She glanced down, a scream escaping her at the white wings that met her eyes. Except, it wasn't a scream that came out but a screech, like from a bird.

"Ah, she wakes," Cersei's voice teased, appearing in front of the bars. She knelt in front of her, the keys to the cage dangling in her hands. Sansa watched as she unlocked the cage, standing aside as she opened the door. Every fibre in Sansa's body told her to escape but she knew she couldn't, how could a swan possibly go to Jon and her family and convince them she was who she was.

"You won't be like this forever," Cersei continued cheerfully. "Go onto the lake, quickly before the moon comes up."

Sansa narrowed her eyes at the woman as she stayed still. Cersei smirked in response, moving a hand to point towards the lake.

"If you are on the lake when the moon comes up, you will be a girl once again," she explained with mock gentleness. Sansa remained rigid but her eyes darted to the lake. It could be another trick, she thought. But, what did she have left to lose? She ducked her head in defeat, stepping out of the cage and waddling towards the lake. She glanced back at Cersei as she settled to float in the centre. She turned her head to look up at the sky as the sun began to set.

For a moment, nothing happened and Sansa felt cold at the knowledge she had fallen for such a trick. And then the water rose, swirling around her and she felt her body rise up with the force, limbs stretching out.

"See?" Cersei cooed mockingly when the water fell and Sansa stood in the middle of the lake, patting down her body and looking at her hands. And then, Sansa darted, her skirts soaking from the water and limiting her movements. Cersei scoffed as she watched Sansa struggle on to the shore and start running for the woods. "Run if you like little dove. But when the sun rises, you'll turn back into a swan, no matter where you are."

Sansa halted, turning her head to Cersei. 

"Why?" she asked, feeling her lips tremble.

“I should have been Rhaegar’s Queen,” Cersei replied with a bitter smile. “But your wild aunt took him from me. So now I will take from the Starks.” She stood, giving Sansa another mocking grin as she passed her. “Until next time, my little bird.”


	6. Magic Tricks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I rewrote the last part of the last chapter, this one and the next chapter, which should be updated again within the next couple of days. Because I had a different idea that worked better with the original Swan Princess movie story. So I think I need to re-emphasise that this is based on that movie. And I debated about the whole magic to turn Sansa into a swan thing and at first I didn't want to do that. But then, I had writers block on how it would work otherwise. So yeah, that will happen a bit more like the movie now but with some GoT additions lol.

Jon wrinkled his nose, raising his red-cloaked arm and shooting it a judgmental look in the mirror. He glanced at Daenerys, raising his eyebrows in silent question 'was this necessary?'. His aunt rolled her eyes and gave a tut.

“You can’t wear all black Jon,” she sighed. “It is a wedding, not a funeral.”

“How much longer do I have to stand here?” he asked as the handmaidens helped dress him.

“I think the outfit is ready,” Daenerys said, regarding him with a hand under her chin. She nodded to herself and signaled to the servants to leave. She stepped over to him then, smiling at him in the mirror.

“It is funny to think of how opposed you were to this match,” she teased, her smile turning into a full grin.

“Yes, congratulations,” Jon quipped, rolling his eyes. “You were right as usual.”

“Jon, can I talk to you?” Robb asked, his reflection appearing in the mirror as he opened the door. Jon turned to face him, giving him a quick nod. He noticed a long black box in Robb’s hand and raised a brow. Robb smiled and handed it to him.

“It is a wedding gift from all of us. Me, Bran, Rickon and Arya.” Jon blinked, figuring the long box with curiosity when he heard Robb chuckle.

“You know, you are meant to open it to find out what is inside.”

Jon rolled his eyes even as his lips curved into a half smile. He lifted the lid, his amusement fading into shock at the dagger that met his eyes, the hilt decorated with the wolf of House Stark and the dragons of House Targaryen.

“I can’t accept this,” he said, holding the box out for Robb to take but the man just laughed and shoved it back to him with a stern gaze.

“You’re taking it. You’re my brother in every way that matters and will officially be so as of tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Jon said in a whimpering whisper, overwhelmed at the thought of such a gift..

He had always felt close to the Starks and to know he was accepted in such a way by them too, it was overwhelming to him. Robb opened his arms and they embraced tightly. They moved apart just as there was a gentle knock at the door and Catelyn peeked inside, frowning as she glanced around the room.

“Have any of you seen Sansa?” Catelyn asked as she looked at each of them in turn.

“She went to the Godswood,” Jon replied slowly, with a confused frown. Catelyn pulled her lips together, hands wringing at her waist.

“I thought so too, but when I went she wasn’t there,” she said. “Nobody has seen her anywhere!”

“She can’t be far,” Robb assured her, grasping her shoulders gently. “We will all search for her. She is probably just out for a walk and lost track of the time.”

“But nobody has seen her!” Catelyn all but whimpered, fingers digging into Robb’s arms as the desperation started to take over. Jon swallowed, glancing at Daenerys, who looked terrifyingly uncertain of what was going on.

Jon didn’t even think. He wrenched the door open with such a force it slammed against the wall. He tore down the corridor to her chambers. The maidens gasped as he burst through the door and rushed around the rooms.

“Sansa?”

“The princess hasn’t been here since this morning,” one of the women replied, her startled eyes following Jon as he let out a growl and ran from the room. He ran down to the Great Hall, where Bran and Rickon were with Maester Luwin but they hadn’t seen her either. He checked the sewing rooms, the sept, the library but it was just as Catelyn had said, nobody had seen her since she had gone to the Godswood.

His heart was pounding as he raced from the library, skipping steps two at a time as he made his way outside. Robb caught him at the bottom, his own face red as he gulped for air.

“We’ve checked the stables, the armoury. Father is taking some men out of the walls to search the Wolfs Wood but why would she go out there?”

“She was last seen in the Godswood,” Jon replied, turning in the direction of the holy place. Before Jon could answer, he took off again. He kept running, running, running until he reached the Godswood, hands bracing a tree as he regained his breath.

“Sansa!” he called desperately. His lip twisted as he pushed himself harshly from the tree. His heart pounding as he darted this way and that, turning in desperate circles and calling her name over and over. But there was no sign of her.

He pressed a hand to the Weirwood tree and clenched his eyes shut. How could she just disappear? Where would she go? He felt the scream in his chest long before it escaped as he fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands.

“Jon!”

He looked up, Robb’s figure blurred by his tears. He wiped his face harshly, taking Robb’s hand when he was offered.

“Have you found her?” Jon asked, desperately clutching at Robb’s jerkin. Robb’s eyes were glistening, darting around the woods and Jon felt as though his heart was already breaking even before Robb said anything.

“We…the men found her hair ribbon in the Wolfs wood. It was covered in blood,” Robb said between shuddering breaths. Jon shook his head repeatedly, pushing Robb away as he turned to the Weirwood tree. He lashed out, kicking and hitting, all but howling in his grief.

“She isn’t dead!” he moaned, turning to face Robb again. Robb lowered his eyes.

“There was blood everywhere,” he mumbled. “It must have been an animal that attacked her. A large one anyway.”

Jon growled, fist clenching at his side.

“Then I will find the beast and kill it myself,” he vowed.

***

Cersei had spoken true.

Sansa had attempted to escape once and true to her captor’s warning. She had turned into a swan the moment the sunlight hit her back. As the days passed, she had started to lose hope of anyone finding her. She was only a woman at night and only if she was on the lake. The chances of anyone finding her was almost nil.

Cersei came every few nights, taunting her. She spoke of how the Starks were so distraught at the loss of their eldest daughter. Her father was so grief-stricken that he had not been seen since. Her mother had locked herself in her chambers too. Cersei seemed to find the fact that Arya was wilder than ever, attacking anyone for the slightest look, particularly amusing. Sansa had remained impassive, ignoring her for as long as she could.

“Rhaegar is searching for a new bride for your prince,” Cersei commented this time as she approached. Sansa tensed, hating herself for how the words affected her. “Quite a few beauties are going to be going to King’s Landing. Margaery Tyrell is particularly charming and beautiful, I hear.”

“Jon loves me,” Sansa stated, turning away from Cersei. Even so, she could imagine the woman’s sneer.

“Does he?” Cersei quipped. “He should declare it then, rather than fawn about with a potential new bride.”

“He was going to marry me,” Sansa replied hotly.

“Indeed he was but will he still? If he were to do so, he would have to find you first. And since everyone thinks that you are dead, well, that presents a little problem doesn't it?" Cersei replied as she rose, giving Sansa a mocking curtsy as she left. Sansa pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her head in her arms as she felt the sobs beginning to take over her. She heard rustling behind her and turned her head, wiping her eyes harshly. She was not going to let Cersei see her cry.

But it was a wolf emerging before her, a pelt of soft grey and wide yellow eyes. Sansa shuffled backwards in fear but the wolf paused and, after a moment, sat back on its hunches, watching her. Sansa lifted a shaking hand, outstretching it towards the beast. It blinked, staying absolutely still for a moment. And then it rose, taking slow steps towards her and leaning its head in to sniff her hand.

She giggled at the wet nose brushing against her hand and raised her hand in silent question. The wolf pushed its head against it, eyes closing at the touch.

“Who are you huh?” she whispered gently, running a hand over the wolfs head. Now that it was closer, she could see that it was a direwolf and the knowledge made her heart sour. The direwolf was the sigil of the Starks. Perhaps, there was some godly force looking out for her after all.

“I will call you Lady,” she declared with a smile. The wolf snorted and butted her head against her hand again. Sansa smiled softly but it died quickly as she saw the sunlight beginning to stretch across the ground until it reached her feet.


	7. Hunts and Tricks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So rules for using faces are more liberal in this fic. You don't need to kill the person, just have their DNA or something *shurgs* I dunno. But yeah, for the purpose of this story folk can use faces with some magic and whatever.

"Jon, you'll make yourself sick eating like that!" Rhaegar commented, frowning as he watched Jon shovel a large spoonful of food into his mouth.

"I need to go back to the library!" Jon said after he had swallowed his food, another loaded spoon already halfway to his mouth. Rhaegar sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Jon... I am worried about you. All this time in the library and for what?"

"You wanted the match," Jon stated coolly.

"Yes, I am aware. But Sansa is dead!"

"It had to have been a large beast," Jon said, completely ignoring his father. "But there is no creature I have found that exists in the North that would do such a thing. Perhaps it came from The Vale, came up North and…”

"Jon, stop!" Rhaegar snapped, slamming a hand on the table. Jon started, blinking at his father in shock. Rhaegar took a deep breath and gave his son a gentle smile. "The ball will be happening soon. There will be plenty of pretty girls there! Dance with some of them, take your mind off of this whole business!"

Jon's eyes hardened and for a moment he just stared at the great oak doors of the hall, lips pursed in silent anger. He exhaled a long breath through his nose as he turned back to face Rhaegar.

"And how long after mother's death did you distract yourself with pretty girls?"

"That is different, I loved your mother!"

"And I loved Sansa!"

"But I already had my heir," Rhaegar said firmly. "I did not need another marriage."

“I have to do this,” Jon replied, his tone gentler with his desperation. “Father please, I can’t rest until I know what could have happened to her! I must find the beast and kill it myself.”

Rhaegar sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Finally, he looked to Jon and gave the briefest of nods.

“One week,” he replied. “And if you find nothing, you must set this aside and move on, do you hear me?”

“But I…”

“One week Jon,” Rhaegar stated firmly

For a few seconds, they held a tense gaze and then Jon huffed out a breath, clenching his jaw before he gave a curt nod. Rhaegar returned the gesture but could barely help the sigh escape him as Jon reached for his goblet, gulping down the water and slamming it down on the table. He pushed back from the table, wiping the back of his hand along his mouth and descended the stairs into the middle of the hall, striding purposely towards the doors.

“All the prince seems to do these days is lock himself in the library,” Jon Connington commented as he slid into the seat next to Rhaegar. The King nodded slowly.

“He just keeps thinking of Sansa and the way that it was,” he replied with another sigh. His friend patted his shoulder twice in comfort to which Rhaegar gave a small smile.

“All the ladies have agreed to come to the ball,” Connington stated suddenly and Rhaegar gave a brief nod in acknowledgement.

“Hopefully we can all move on after next week then,” he sighed, taking a long sip of his wine.

***

Sansa grinned as she turned on the water to see Lady appear from the shadows. She ran through the water, her soaked skirts hindering her movements until Lady bounded into the water to meet her, nudging her head against Sansa’s hip.

“Hello girl,” she cooed, stepping on to the shore and sitting down, outstretching a hand for the wolf to join her. Lady gave a small huff, laying her head in Sansa’s lap, eyes closing contentedly as Sansa patted her head. Sansa glanced up at the moon, wondering where Jon was right now, wondering how her family was. She sighed, burying her head in Lady’s fur.

“You are invaluable company you know?” Sansa mumbled after a moment. Lady made a small whine and Sansa sighed. “I wish Jon were here. But I don’t even know where _I_ am so how is he to find me? Oh Lady, I think I may be here forever.”

She felt a sob catch in her throat and she clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears. Lady’s head jerked suddenly, turning towards the clearing. She gave a small lick to Sansa’s hand before she leapt to her feet bounding back into the cover of trees. Sansa pulled herself to her feet, quickly turning around to face the clearing, expecting Cersei to appear at any second. Yet, after a few moments there was still no sign of the woman, only the sounds of the owls in the trees. Sansa frowned in the direction that Lady had went, wondering what had spooked her companion.

***

Jon slammed the book down with another huff, his hands running through his hair in annoyance. He had found no creature at all that would match the disappearance of Sansa. He leaned back in his chair, eyes glancing around the room in exasperation.

He only had another five days to find some clue as to what had happened to Sansa. He moved the letters on the table, scrolls he had received from Daenerys and the Starks asking how he was coping. He pulled a letter from Arya across the surface, eyes following the words lazily.

She had written that she was worried for her parents and siblings. Robb was struggling with his mother’s grief. His father had emerged but was barely recognisable and not his usual competent self. Robb was acting Lord and carer as well as trying to deal with his own grief. Only Jeyne’s pregnancy seemed to give any sense of happiness within Winterfell. Bran and Rickon were confused, unable to understand what had happened to their sister. But they had come across a direwolf in the Wolfswood and had been excited as none had been seen as far south as Winterfell before. Arya went on to speak of how she was practicing her swords every morning, wanting to avenge her sister just like Jon. She had finished the letter saying she knew he loved Sansa and neither she, nor any of the other Starks, believed that he wanted to marry anyone else right now.

He sighed again, tossing the letter to the side as he ran a hand over his chin. And then, he jerked forward, gripping the letter and pulling it forward again, his eyes rereading quickly until it fell on the part he was searching for.

_A direwolf has never been sighted this far south before._

He leapt from his chair, bounding out of the library and down the corridor with such a speed, he skidded on the corner. He raced up the stairs and burst into his father’s solar, his chest heaving. Rhaegar blinked in surprise, leaning back from his chair as he looked over his son.

“Postpone the ball,” Jon panted. Rhaegar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Jon, we have been through this.”

“I think it was a direwolf!” Jon continued, ignoring his father’s protest. “Please father, please! I swear I will go to the ball after but I _have_ to go North and kill the beast. You understand that don’t you? The ladies still come, they’ll just need to expand their stay a little.”

“If this means this will end then fine,” Rhaegar muttered, throwing his hands in the air. “But I mean it, this is it after this. Do you understand?”

Jon nodded before he quickly left the room, bounding for his room to pack his bags for the long journey north.

***

Lady returned six days after her disappearance, trotting up to Sansa as though nothing had been amiss.

“Where have you been huh?” she muttered, folding her arms in mock anger. The wolf sat and cocked her head innocently, blinking slowly and Sansa snorted, extending a hand in surrender. Her companion bounded up to her bumping her head against her palm.

Cersei had not visited recently and Sansa wondered if her captor was trying to make her more paranoid, make her glad to see her. Sansa scoffed at the thought. She wasn’t going to fall for Cersei’s tricks. She continued to act aloof, no matter what Cersei taunted her with. No matter how many times the woman said Jon was moving on, that he didn’t love her, Sansa would not believe it unless she saw it with her own eyes.

Perhaps, Sansa thought with a grin, Cersei had finally realised she couldn’t rile Sansa and had just left her to wallow in the self-pity of this trapping spell. It was exhausting in all manner of ways, turning into a swan every day. But at least she didn’t have to see Cersei as much anymore. And she had Lady for company now too.

It was several days later when Cersei finally returned to her.

“Your Prince is in the North apparently,” she greeted, pacing around the shore of the lake as Sansa stepped onto the land.  She said nothing, waiting for her captor to continue, as she knew she would. “Perhaps he is looking for a Northern bride.”

Sansa frowned, turning her head to look at the blonde woman. She pulled up her skirts, scrunching the hem to squeeze the water out of them. She had loved this dress but it was utterly ruined now she thought miserably. Yet another thing that Cersei had taken from her and ruined.

“Have you given up yet, little bird?” Cersei taunted.

“Never,” Sansa retorted, giving her captor a cool gaze. “And Jon will never give up on me either.”

“If you say so,” Cersei shrugged, turning away again. “As I said before, he will have to find you.”

Sansa glared at Cersei’s back as she walked away and then turned her head to look upon the lake once more. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin atop of them. She wanted to believe that Jon would find her, she still believed that he loved her but Cersei was right, how long until he gives up and thinks her to be dead? How long after her death would he truly begin to move on? She sobbed softly, wishing that Lady would come to her but her companion seemed to have disappeared once again.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest a little longer?” Ned asked as Jon shovelled his breakfast into his mouth.

He shook his head quickly, already standing and wiping his mouth. Arya bounded to her feet as well, huffing when Catelyn placed a hand on her shoulder to push her back down.

“I want to go too!” Arya insisted.

“Too dangerous,” Jon replied at the same time as Ned and Catelyn. Arya pouted.

“Take care,” Robb said, rising to give Jon a hug.

“I will,” Jon insisted, stepping away and leaving the table. “I should be back by nightfall.”

The Starks bid him goodbye and Jon hurried to the armoury to get his sword and a bow and quiver of arrows. The stable master had his horse out in the courtyard ready when he emerged. He hoisted himself up, pulling the reigns to steer the horse towards the gates.

He had barely been riding through the Wolfswood for a hour when he spotted the beast, emerging through the trees. Her yellow eyes fixed upon him, her body tense. He growled, hand reaching back for an arrow. The direwolf howled, turning quickly and bolting back into the trees.

Jon cursed, squeezing the horse’s sides to get it to chase after the beast. The grey fur kept streaking in and out of his vision as he pursued it. But although it was never close enough for him to strike, he felt like the beast was taunting him, keeping within his sight as they raced through the woods. When the horse was losing stamina and sliding into a light trot, the wolf was padding just out of reach.

At last, there was a break in the trees and the wolf bounded across the open Northern plains. Jon chased after it, wondering how much longer this chase would go on for. He had to kill it before nightfall otherwise he would lose it, and would struggle to find his way back to Winterfell.

Another small cluster of trees appeared in the distance and as his horse entered through, he cursed again as he lost sight of the beast once more. All he could see before him was a large lake, a single swan gliding across the surface. The bird raised its head and Jon thought he saw it take a double look. He shook his head at the notion, his head turning to look for the wolf once more. He saw it on the eastern shore of the lake, her eyes glancing between him and the swan. Jon reached back for his arrow, sliding one out and into his bow.

The wolf whimpered, crouching low as he took aim. But as he pulled the string back, there was a sudden burst of light and he scrambled back, the bow and arrow clattering to the ground. He shielded his eyes, turning his head away from the assult of light. When it died down, he lowered his hand and looked back at where the swan was.

Only…

“Sansa!” he gasped, taking a hesitant step towards her, thinking she must be a dream and would disappear if he moved to quickly. She smiled, her head ducking down as her hands grasped her skirts.

“Hello Jon,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears.

Jon broke into a run, the water splashing up past his knees as he raced towards her, his hands wrapping around her waist and lifting her up. He twirled her around, water droplets flying everywhere as she burrowed her face in the crook of his neck and against his shoulder and he pulled her closer, his eyes drifting shut as he realised she was here, where she belonged in his arms.

He set her down again, his hands burying in her hair to pull her lips to his. She moaned, pulling him closer before she suddenly pushed him away, her eyes wide as she looked over his shoulder. She grabbed his hand, tugging him back towards the shore.

“You have to go,” she whispered. Jon frowned.

“Go? I only just found you!”

“Cersei has me under a spell. If she finds you there is no telling what she might do!”

“I won’t leave you here!” he growled.

“You must. I can’t leave, when the sun comes up I turn back into a swan.”

“There has to be a way to break it,” Jon insisted, grasping her hand again. Sansa bit her lip.

“I don’t know. I just know she is dangerous. Please Jon, go!”

He grimaced, pulling her into one last kiss before he picked up his bow and arrow and went back to his horse.

“I’ll save you, I promise,” he whispered, turning his horse away and coaxing it into a run. Sansa watched him go, a sigh of relief escaping her as she saw him disappear. She thanked the gods that Cersei had no visited again.

***

She watched silently as the man rode out of the forest and back in the direction of Winterfell. Her mouth pulled into a sneer as she looked back in the direction of the lake. She couldn’t allow for the Prince to have Sansa. And while tormenting the girl had amused her, she had no real need for the girl. It was time to get rid of her.

But of course, she thought as she stepped into her carriage, where Qyburn was sitting inside waiting, it wouldn’t do to just kill her out here with nobody to torment with their anguish. Cersei wanted them to suffer and she knew exactly how to do it.

“Do you have it?” she asked her servant. Qyburn handed the mask over. Cersei smirked, placing it over her own face. Qyburn handed her a mirror and a laugh escaped her as Sansa’s blue eyes stared back at her.

“Perfect,” Cersei grinned, handing the man the mirror back and pushing her hair from her face. “When the Prince declares his love for me, the wrong Sansa, the real one will die.”


	8. Love conquers all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray. I can still finish WIPs after all! (she says while already writing other stories lol)  
> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and left kudos :)

Sansa screamed before her hands came up to cover her mouth. She stumbled backwards with wide eyes until the water splashed at her skirts.

She was looking upon herself, emerging from the woodlands. And as Sansa thought she couldn't possibly be any more horrified until she watched her other self reach up and pull at her chin, the face coming off to reveal Cersei's smirk beneath.

"Surprise," she commented, giving a mocking curtsy. "Did I pass as you?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Sansa asked as her hands fell away. Anger was replacing fear as her hands clenched into fists at her side and she leveled Cersei with a defiant glare.

"I'm going to see your handsome Prince," Cersei replied, stalking towards her.

Sansa snarled and stepped backwards as the other woman reached and grabbed her arm, dragging her from the lake. Sansa dug her heels in the ground, her free hand attempting to throw Cersei's grip off, her nails piercing the skin. Cersei's guards stepped forward, catching her as Cersei swung them towards them.

"What are you going to do?" Sansa gasped, wriggling in her the grip of the guard who held her arms behind her back.

"Ending this," she replied, reaching out to place her hand under Sansa's chin in a mockingly gentle gesture. Sansa wrenched her face away, glaring up at the blonde woman once more. Cersei shrugged at the reaction. "I am going to find your Prince and when he declares his love, thinking that I am truly you, then you will die."

"He'll never fall for it," Sansa snapped. 

"Well, in that case I suppose Ser Gregor will do the honours."

Sansa paled, her eyes darting to where the brute of a man stood, staring at her as though he could see inside her. And Sansa knew enough of his reputation to know that if he could, he  _would_  rip her insides out.

"Put her in the cage," Cersei commanded, reaching up to put Sansa's face back on. 

Sansa kicked and twisted as the men pushed her into the cage, slamming the door shut and locking the door. Cersei turned with a sinister smile and it made Sansa recoil to see such an expression upon her own face. Cersei looked to her guards.

"When she dies, toss her body in the lake," Cersei commanded. “And if she isn’t dead by the morning after tomorrow, kill her yourself.”

***

Dawn was just breaking as he made it back to Winterfell. Jon was gasping as he entered the courtyard, all but throwing himself from his horse and bending over, bracing himself on his knees to catch his breath. He had ridden so fast, his poor horse was exhausted, her sides heaving as she was led away to the drinking trough.

He heard Robb’s sword clatter to the ground and when he looked up he could see Arya frozen in place where she was perched on the barrels, her sword glinting in the sunlight as her hand holding the whetstone hovered above it. Jon bowed his head again as he tried to regain his breath and then Robb’s boots appeared before his eyes.

“Jon, what….?”

“She’s alive,” Jon replied, finally managing to straighten himself.

“Sansa is alive?” he questioned, squeezing Jon’s shoulders and shaking them slightly in his desperate excitement. Jon nodded.

“By the Long Lake,” he replied. “But she’s under a spell.”

“A spell?” Robb echoed as Arya came bounding to his side, her sword now safely in its sheath at her hip.

“She turns into a swan at sunrise. Cersei Lannister did it,” Jon growled and Arya’s eyes narrowed.

“I knew she was up to no good. Father never trusted her!” she spat, her hand running over the handle of her sword. Robb grimaced, running a hand over his beard as he looked between the two of them.

“What can we do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Jon replied, pacing in small agitated strides, back and forth. “I don't know what to do. I don't know if Cersei knows about me finding her or what she would do if she does know."

"You should rest, you're no good like this," Robb interrupted gently, patting Jon's shoulder. "We'll think this through after you've had a rest and are able to think clearly."

"Yeah," Jon sighed, running a hand across his face and giving a tired nod. He hadn't slept since the night before and had spent all day riding, finding Sansa and the rest of the night riding back to Winterfell. "Wake me at noon so we can discuss plans."

***

Cersei had taken three of her guards with her, two others, including Ser Gregor Clegane.

Sansa tried to avoid looking at him, he scared her so. She had her back turned from them, her head tucked down as she tried to calm her beating heart, tried to reassure herself that she was not going to die.

_Jon will not fall for her tricks. He’ll come back for me._

Yet, as the hours passed and the cold stare of her captors burned into the back of her head she began to lose hope. And then she realised, as the sun began to set, that she wouldn’t even be on the lake to turn human. The thought made her want to cry but she couldn’t, her swan form preventing her from letting out her grief.

_If Lady were here, I wouldn’t be afraid._

As if hearing her silent call, Sansa’s heard a slight growl to her right. She turned her head, meeting the golden gaze of the direwolf right before there was a flash of grey as Lady dashed forward, teeth bared before they clamped down on the arm of the guard to her right.

He cried out as the crunch of snapping bone filled the air and Lady let go. The guard had barely hit the ground before she leapt forward, her teeth ripping through his throat in the blink of an eye before she turned to face Ser Gregor.

The wolf growled, her whole body was tense and her head dipped low as the blood dripped from her muzzle in warning. Ser Gregor unsheathed his sword.

Lady darted forward, dodging to the side as Gregor swung his sword, barely missing the wolf’s tail. The beast snarled, leaping up on Gregor’s back in an attempt to get to his neck, her claws digging into the man’s shoulders, tearing at the skin until the blood ran in trickles down his back.

Ser Gregor growled, reaching back and, with strength that surprised and frightened Sansa, he grabbed Lady by the scruff of the neck and lifted her from him, tossing her body through the air as though she weighed nothing.

***

It felt like they had been huddled in the library for hours. Jon already felt his eyes itching with tiredness all over again. He glanced out of the window, frowning at the setting sun and wondering if Sansa was alright, if Cersei had figured anything out.

Arya had not been allowed to come to the meeting, Ned had decided she was too young to be involved. And all Arya seemed to suggest was calling the banners to march upon the Westerlands in revenge.

Jon knew they would have to execute Cersei for what she had done. But they needed proof and that was the problem because there was no telling what Cersei would do if they appeared at the lake to face her.

They were trying to figure out if they could place scouts nearby enough to spy when Cersei left when they heard thundering footsteps, right before the door burst open and Jory was clutching the handle and panting.

“Sansa!” he gasped, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Sansa’s been spotted!”

“Where?” Jon cried, leaping up from the table along with Robb, Ned and Catelyn.

“In the wolfswood!” Jory replied, grinning uncontrollably. “She is being brought to Winterfell!”

Her family immediately ran from the room and Jon made to follow them before he stopped, frowning as he turned back towards the window to see that the sun was still not fully set.

Nevertheless, he followed the Starks down the stairs. Arya, Bran and Rickon came racing into the courtyard, skidding to a halt beside their parents as everyone waited with baited breath for the gates to open.

Sansa stilled in the gateway, a choked sob escaping her as she looked upon her family. Her lip trembled as she extended her arms, running straight for Jon who caught her in his arms.

“Jon,” Sansa breathed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Sansa, how are you here when the sun is still up?”

“I killed her,” Sansa declared as Jon placed her back down, her hands grasping his shoulders. Jon’s eyebrows rose and he could feel the bewilderment of their witnesses in the air around them.

“You…killed Cersei?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Sansa insisted, hugging him again. “Oh Jon. I’m so happy to be home. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I’m so glad you’re safe Sansa,” he whispered, holding her close.

The wind was howling, blowing her skirts around her legs. But then, it howled again and again and he realised there it was a wolf’s.

“Is that Lady?” he asked, moving her to the side in order to look around in search of the faithful wolf. But it sounded too far away to be the wolf, if she was here with Sansa.

“Lady?” she questioned in confusion.

And Jon felt as though he had been dumped in the lake himself as he realised that this wasn’t Sansa. She smiled sweetly and he hated how much like Sansa she looked. He swallowed, his hands clenching into fists as he stepped back out of her reach. She blinked in confusion.

“How did you kill Cersei?” he asked slowly. He knew now that whoever this was, it wasn’t Sansa. But the Starks had to know it too, had to realise that Sansa was still out there somewhere and anything could have happened to her in order for someone to use her face.

“I poisoned her.”

“Poisoned?” Robb echoed behind him, his voice hard and Jon knew he didn’t believe this was his sister anymore. “How did you manage that?”

“I collected the herbs when I could,” she replied.

“And Cersei just drank it?” Arya responded coolly.

“I pretended to drink it too.”

“Sansa doesn’t know what is poisonous or not,” Ned said lowly. “She never cared about the outdoors other than when riding with us.”

Sansa smiled again, but this time it was mocking. She shook her head, folding her hands together in front of her as she looked down for a moment.

“Oh dear,” she sighed, looking up again. “It would have been kinder this way.”

Jon stepped back as Sansa’s hands reached up to pull at her chin, her face rolling upwards to reveal Cersei’s underneath.

“Seize her!” Ned growled instantly. Cersei laughed as the guards grabbed her arms.

“Oh, I knew this was a risk,” she said in response to the puzzled expressions on the faces of Sansa’s family. “So, I have a backup to make this all worth it,” she purred, lips curling into a smirk. “Because my dears, even if I die, you won’t save your precious Princess. She would have died instantly if you had declared your love for me thinking it was her. It would have been painless,” she continued, giving Jon a pitying sigh. “But Ser Gregor…well, I cannot promise he will be quick at all. In fact, I sincerely doubt it.”

“Do you have any last words before I slit your throat?” Jon growled. Cersei laughed.

“If you hurry little prince,” she said, her smile still in place. “you might be able to see her one last time.”

He snarled, his hand reaching for his dagger and, before he could blink, he slashed Cersei’s throat. He turned away, hearing her gargle and retch as he raced for the stables to grab his horse. Robb cut in front of him, pulling his horse forward that was already saddled.

“Go and find her,” he said, holding the horse steady as Jon leapt up.

***

She blinked as the light faded from in front of her eyes, holding her fingers up in shock.

_Jon. Jon’s killed her._

She scrambled forward, fingers curling around the bars as she watched Lady pull herself to her feet and shake herself off. Gregor advanced towards her and she bolted backwards, her head tilting back in a howl. She cut off when Gregor swung his sword again, racing around the other side of her cage. She howled again and again, only to run out of his reach once more.

“Hey, leave her alone!” Sansa yelled. Gregor paused, his cold eyes widening as he realised she had changed back into a human.

He gave a cruel grin as he moved towards the cage, digging the keys from his pocket as he stalked towards her. Sansa crawled backwards in fear as he opened the door, his arm reaching in to grab her ankle. She screamed, kicking out with her other leg.

Lady jumped up on his back once more, her jaw clamping around the man’s shoulder and biting down until he yelled in pain, letting go of Sansa’s ankle to reach for Lady once more. Sansa cried out as he once more threw Lady away, the wolf yelping as she hit the ground.

Sansa climbed out of the cage, tripping over her skirts. She looked up as Gregor unsheathed his sword and thundered towards her. She pushed herself up, stumbling backwards as her legs wobbled in fear.

She barely felt the brush of fur against her hand, a flash of black and white appearing on either side of her as two wolves raced forward and leapt up at the man. Three more flashes of grey appeared through the trees and Sansa watched as the five wolves tore their claws and teeth in any place they could reach.

She raced forward, widely avoiding the scuffle as she approached Lady, kneeling down beside her to rub at her head. The wolf whimpered but raised her head, licking at Sansa’s wrist. Sansa sobbed, throwing her arms around the beast’s neck and burying her face in the fur.

An inhuman sound filled the air and she turned to see the white wolf push Gregor’s chest, shoving him to the ground as the grey wolves tore into his wrists and his foot, the black attacking the other. She turned back to Lady when she saw the white wolf bare his teeth and dive down, right before the sound of ripping flesh and gurgling filled her ears.

She waited for the sounds to die out, for the wolves growling to die down into contented panting before she raised her head. She still dared not look, knowing what a mess would greet her if she did but she managed to push herself to a stand.

She froze at the sound of horse’s hooves, the wolves moving to surround her in a tight circle of protection, bodies tense and heads bowed. Lady let out a snort, pushing herself into a stand at last and she nuzzled into her pack mates in turn in comfort. She brushed up next to the white one, licking at his muzzle and his stance relaxed, the others following suit.

“Sansa! Sansa!”

“Jon!”

He appeared through the clearing, barely managing to get the horse to a halt before he jumped down and raced towards her, throwing her up in his arms and twirling her in the air.

“Gods, I thought I had lost you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with the threat of tears.

“I thought I was goner too,” she replied. “But I knew, I knew you would come for me Jon.”

“I love you,” he gasped, placing her back on her feet and pressing kisses all across her face before pulling her back in his arms. “I love you so much. I’ll never let anything harm you again, I promise.”

“Well,” she laughed, glancing at the wolves beside her. “You might have competition there.”

He laughed, smiling down at the beasts that surrounded her. He glanced at Lady, reaching to pat her head. “No hard feelings about the hunting, right?” he joked. Lady licked his fingers in response.

“Jon,” she sighed, clasping her hand in his and squeezing it. “Take me home.”


End file.
